Wicked Bad Boys (19 page)

I
’m confused
as we leave the conference room. Does Kara think Jonathan’s a flight risk? Why else would she pull me aside to tell me this again? She must have some concerns.

We get back to her office.

“I have two more meetings off-site this evening. Let me know if anything comes up.”

“ The men stand politely in response. Solomon turns to leave, and Kara says to Jonathan, “Let me know how it goes at Grand Central.”

Now I’m confused. Kara knows about to Grand Central too? Maybe it has to do with the Warrior deal. There’s so much to think about, I set that aside.

“I’ll phone you later, Rebecca,” Jonathan tells me as he follows them out.

He leaves with his dad and Kara. I head back to my office to gather my things. I’m not in a hurry to go with them. I look for a few more files, and take them with me when I finally head out. I’m a bit surprised. When I get out to the front of our office building, Kara and Jonathan are only now stepping out of Mr. Sloan’s limousine. It seems the three of them had a separate meeting—without me. There has to be more to this story. I start to wonder what secrets they have. Again, it could have to do with the Warrior acquisition, so I leave it alone.

Jonathan sees me exit the building and heads toward me.

“Hey,” he says. He’s not the slightest bit nervous or apprehensive that I just saw them. For some reason, that sets me at ease.

“Crazy day, huh?” I say.

“Way too bizarre. Are you heading home?”

“Yes. I was just going to hail a cab.”

“Let me take you.”

“Isn’t that going to take you away from your errand? You’re going to Grand Central, aren’t you?”

“That’s okay. It’s only a few extra blocks. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He opens the door for me, and takes my laptop bag, placing it in the trunk before he gets in the driver seat. He leans toward me and pulls me in for a kiss. It hits me how much I missed him. I’m already melting and wanting him all over again.

“Mmmm,” I moan into his lips and lift my hand to his jaw.

“Let me get you home before I end up taking you right here,” he teases. He’s not far off—I could straddle him in the driver seat right now.

“Good idea.”

“I’m sorry about how this is going, Rebecca. This Rushton case is heating up, isn’t it?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Not at all. Serious would be charges being laid, bail hearings and possibly some time at Riker’s Island.”

“I guess so,” he says, pulling slowly from the embrace.

“They have nothing on you. Try not to worry about it.”

“That’s a tall order. Someone has it out for me, with all these anonymous tips.”

“True, but that’s not your fault. Trust me, it could be worse.”

“Okay,” he answers, smiling softly as he starts the car. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Anytime. Let’s go. This way, we can get as much done as possible, and still hopefully make it out to the Bahamas tonight.”

“Did I ever tell you I love the way you think?”

“No, but you can tell me now,” I say, smiling.

After another kiss on the cheek, we drive off. He lets me off at my building, and understandably, does not come up. I think he wants to finish up whatever he’s about to do at Grand Central so we can get away.

“The next time I see you, it will be in a limo on the way to the airport. Deal?”

“Absolutely,” I tell him. I give him a soft kiss on the lips, “Last one, for the road. See you soon, Jonathan.”

He waits for me to get inside my building and as I turn, he waves and drives away. I silently hope his Grand Central excursion has nothing to do with the Rushton case.

I
fight
my way through traffic and eventually make it back to the post office opposite Grand Central Station. Finding that trunk here is probably a longshot. I doubt someone would remove it from the locker that Mandy put it into, and place it inside a different locker at the same location. If they did, they would certainly want to lock that thing up tight.

I park nearby, and check my wallet to see what kind of cash I’m carrying. This is a weak backup plan, but I may be able to sway someone who works there into opening the surrounding lockers, just so I can see if it’s there. I head back to the bay of lockers and wait, assessing the amount of foot traffic there is. No one is around this time. Just to be sure, I check the locker again. Nothing.

I sit in a nearby row of chairs again, figuring if I hang around long enough, information will come to me. Too bad that doesn’t happen after thirty minutes of sitting around. Eventually, I see one of the uniformed janitors walking by and I decide to try swaying him. This is New York, and money talks.

“Hey there. I’ve got a question about those lockers over there,” I say to the guy, pointing at the wall where I need access.

“What about them?” he asks.

“I have this key, and I think I put my stuff into the wrong locker. Is there any way someone can open them all for me?”

He looks me up and down. “No one here can do that for you, mister. If you need help with your own locker, go over to that desk at the other end of the hall.”

I get my wallet out and slide out four hundred-dollar bills so he can see it. “I’d prefer if you can help me, unofficially,” I tell him, and wait to see what he does.

He stares at the money, turns around and scans to see who’s behind him, and then looks at me. “Man, there’s a bunch of cameras pointed this way. What is this, a setup?”

He walks away, mumbling something about management trying to fire him, and having to talk to his union rep. Well, this sucks. I text my father to check on whether he’s had better luck on his end. He replies and says yes, he’ll have the information in an hour. He wants me to meet him at the Sloan offices when he gets it. The problem is, the information he’s getting is
not
the trunk. Someone will still have to track it down after we figure out who removed it. I leave the Grand Central area, certain that the ‘someone’ who has to keep working on this is me, and the weekend is pretty much a write-off now.

I
get
to Dad’s office. Before I park, he phones to tell me to come around back. He has the information, but is already in his limo and has to leave soon. I drive to him, park my car, and step inside his limo.

“What did you find out, Dad?”

He’s got a foul grimace on his face. “Someone is playing games…someone powerful.”

“What do you mean?”

“My guy checked the video files. The footage has been deleted.”

“What? How?”

“He doesn’t know. He said all the video files with cameras covering that bay of lockers have been corrupted. Someone tampered with it to make sure we don’t figure out who they are.”

“This is unbelievable. So what’s next?”

“We wait. Whoever took it wants something. They haven’t given it to the police, so we have to assume they want something from me. Eventually, they’ll contact me and tell me what it is.”

“Who else would know?”

“No one. Only you, Rocko, Tony, and Kara know. The circle is tight. Mandy said she didn’t tell anyone except Claire. Neither of them would want to extort me for it…Mandy has already given you her terms, and Claire is harmless. I’ve got to go take care of something. Let’s check in on Monday when you’re back from your holiday.”

So much time has passed already, and so much is still up in the air, there’s no way I’ll get this trip off the ground. I’ve got to stay close. “It won’t happen this weekend. Can I use your place in Atlantic Beach instead?”

“Yes, of course. Go ahead. Do you still have keys?”

“Yes,” I answer, and open the limo door. “Keep me posted, Dad.”

“See you, son.”

O
ur trip
away is now off the table—for this weekend, anyway. Jonathan phones. He says he’s on his way to pick me up. He wants to take me to his dad’s house in Atlantic Beach. It’s about an hour away, so we can at least have Saturday and Sunday together. I don’t even need to pack. Jonathan had the driver go by the airport for our things so it will be there at the house when we arrive. He promises to make it special. I’m so glad we’re getting some time together. I don’t even care for special. All I want is drama-free.

He gets here and has taken the time to buy my three dozen white, pink and red roses. I’m in awe that he’s so sweet and thoughtful. Finally, we’re on our way. I fall asleep in the car, and when I wake up we’re driving through the Water Club, one of the gated oceanfront communities in Atlantic City. The place is beyond breathtaking. The facades are all done up with Mediterranean stucco. I’ve only been in this neighborhood once, for a party Barnaby’s wife had hosted.

Jonathan parks in the driveway and helps me out of the car. We walk in, and I’m already in awe. I’m standing under a three-story skylight that dissects the entire house. It goes all the way to glass doors at the back of the house, where all I can see are the sandy dunes, crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean, and a well-planned infinity pool that seems to merge into the ocean from this spot. I instantly promise myself that before I leave this house, I’m slipping into a bikini and sinking into that pool.

He takes my hand and shows me around. Everything is decorated in pale creams and off-whites with chocolate brown accents. It’s gorgeous. We go to the living room first, and oh my God, it opens onto a deck with a hot tub in one corner, which also looks out on the ocean. I start to think I could stay here and never leave. Next, we walk to a massive open concept kitchen with attached dining room. He takes the flowers and puts it in a vase near the window. Even I could enjoy cooking in here, and I don’t cook.

I follow him up to a massive master bedroom suite with a large fireplace in one corner. The bedroom faces the ocean and runs the entire width of the house. He tells me we’ll sleep up here, and if I need more room for my things, there are two bedrooms on the lower level. Apparently, they open on the ocean as well, and make it easier to walkout to the beach. I can barely wait to take a long shower—or a bath—and relax with Jonathan all weekend.

Just then, Jonathan turns to me. The man is incredibly attractive, and I can’t believe I’m not in his arms right now. I reach my hands up to his shoulders and pull on them so he ducks down. Planting my lips on his, I whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, pressing a kiss on my lips.

“The escape,” I tell him.

He groans. “It’s not quite the Bahamas.”

“True, but it’s perfect. It’s the best of both worlds.”

“Yes, I guess. Except for the tropical fish, exotic food and the sun beating down on us. I had planned to take you to a little remote island with the yacht.”

“Mmmm, don’t remind me,” I whisper, pulling away to lick a line across his bottom lip. “Now, make love to me.”

I breathe the last part into his ear. Under my roaming hand, I feel his heart pounding rapidly. His hands rise from my waist to cup my chin and turn my face up to his.

“If you insist,” he answers.

He picks me up and carries me over to his bed. Yes, this is the kind of escape I was hoping for. It doesn’t matter that it’s still daytime. That’s what makes it feel like a vacation. He places me on the bed, and I pull him on top of me. He parts my lips and takes my mouth. I feel the world has ended and this moment can stretch out forever. Having his lips on mine, his body pressed to mine, I feel connected to his soul.

He tastes my mouth with his tongue, and lets me do the same to him. All I want is for it to last. I don’t even feel like pulling away to come up for air, it’s that amazing. I run my tongue across his teeth, and along his tongue. He tastes like mint mixed with pleasure. I take a moment to gather and file away the taste, and all the sensations coursing through me. I don’t want to forget this precise second with Jonathan.

He tilts his head down and begins to nibble the side of my neck and collarbone. His teeth grazes my skin and my stomach clenches. I love the feel of this man’s mouth on me. He moves further down, and cups my breast as he blows a hot breath on my nipple through my shirt. He unbuttons my shirt and I lift myself enough for him to peel it off. His hands move up to hold on to my shoulders as he kisses the flesh at the tops of my breasts.

I lower my head to rest my chin on the top of his head. I raise my hands, running my palms and fingers through his hair. I nuzzle into it, relishing the feeling of it against my skin. I’m craving him. I want him inside me, and my hips begin to rock slowly, gleaning the contact with his leg. One of his hands shifts lower and slides under my back. He moves back up to my throat, nipping the delicate skin, then kissing the spot after each tender bite. I’m so wet now.

I wrap my legs around his hips. I want him inside me so bad, and there’s too much clothes between us. I rub my clit against his hardness and he groans this deep, guttural sound that ratchets up my desire some more.

“I want you so bad, Jonathan,” I moan into his ear. I feel the vibration of the moan he lets out on my neck, and I’m so ready, I reach down and begin pulling on his belt buckle. He lifts himself enough to give my hands some space to maneuver. I undo his belt and zipper, and tug his pants and boxers down to release his manhood. It’s so hard, it’s throbbing in my hand. I move the bundle of clothes as far down his legs as I can push them, ready to grind against his heat and hardness. He pops back on his knees and turns me over. Fumbling with the waistband of my skirt, he undoes the snaps. He lowers his head to the small of my back, and delivers soft kisses on my lower back as he slowly pulls the zipper down to where it ends at my ass. He lifts my hips slightly to pull off the skirt. I’m in my bra and panties now, and he’s still in his shirt. All I want is his skin on mine, and his cock buried deep inside me.

He flips me again so I’m on my back again. I’m soaking wet and my clit is throbbing. I can’t wait anymore. Reaching my hand back, I unclasp my bra, aware of his darkened eyed fixed on me as I wiggle out of my panties. I sit up to feverishly undo the buttons of his shirt. He cups my chin and tilts up my head to look at him. We pause. I get lost in his eyes. Time stops. We stay there, tucked away, enjoying a small slice of perfection.

His hands start to wander again, and dip to the top swells of my breasts. Immediately, my nipples peak again. His lips follow, kissing down my neck and shoulders, and further still. He flicks each nipple with his tongue. It sends a shiver through my body, and I arch my neck and press my chest into his face.

I reach a hand down to wrap my fingers around his thick, hard shaft. I stroke his cock up and down, begging the stars to let him put it inside me before I come just from his touch. Finally, he pulls away and takes off the half-unbuttoned shirt. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me on top of him. Straddling him, I get in position above his manhood. I press my hands on his biceps and lower myself slowly, feeling his hardness as I inch myself down his shaft. He grasps my hips, pulling me the rest of the way down. My eyes snap shut and I hear myself moan. His cock feels so good.

“God, Rebecca. You’re so wet…so fucking tight.”

I start to rock my hips and he matches my pace, pulling me down hard with every thrust that hits deep in my core. I’m grinding down on him now. The sensation heightens my pleasure and I get so close to the edge I can scream. He plunges deeper now, harder. I can go for hours like this. He moves a hand up to massage my breasts while the other grips tightly around to my ass cheek. He spreads my pussy lips with that grasp, and the touch sets off my climax.

I see sparks behind my closed eyes as I grind hard on his cock, shaking through my ecstasy. I hear him growl so deeply and feel his grip tighten even more. I know he’s coming too. Our bodies shake as we hit the heights, and he fills me with his hot release. I keep rocking slowly on his cock, extending the sensation for us both until he pulls me down to rest on his chest. We’re both panting, struggling for air to breathe as our sated bodies relax.

“God, woman,” he whispers in my ear. “I think I’m addicted to you.”

I smile and wrap my arms under his neck.

“I don’t think we’re leaving this bed for the weekend, Rebecca.”

“Promise?” I whisper back, feeling my arousal begin to build again.